⚠️ TW⚠️
Strong language, mentions of su1c1d3, mentions of SH, small amounts of blood

I swear to God I can't fucking do this anymore I am on my last straw I am so goddamn close to going insane it is not even funny. I can't take this. I don't want this pain anymore. I can't. I fucking can't. And, even though it's not healthy, I can't help but feel the urge to scratch my arms and legs up with a needle or something sharp, since I can't actually fucking cut myself without my stupid ass brain stopping me. But I can't, because it's summer where I live, which means it's usually 70-90 degrees out. I can't hide it if I do. And I don't want people to know I'm suffering. It sucks. It's shitty. I fucking hate my life. I want to die. I want to grab a knife, slice my arms, and then stab myself. And I hope it's painful, because I deserve to feel pain. I'm a useless, selfish, ignorant little shit who doesn't matter. I want to kill myself. I want to use my hoodie strings and slowly strangle myself. I want to die. I can't take this shit anymore. I don't even flinch at the sight of me bleeding. Hell, sometimes I try and make myself bleed more. I can't fucking do this. I can't. I fucking can't. I'm done with life. I want to die. I don't know how much longer I can do this. But I have a feeling I'm not gonna live to 18. That just doesn't seem possible. My mental health is shit. My brain is slowly tearing its self apart. I want to jump off of a 50 story building. I want to do a swan dive off of The Burj Khalifa or however the hell you spell it. I can't take this shit anymore. I feel wrong. I feel like I'm just looking for attention. I feel like I'm being overdramatic. I want to cry, I want to let it all out, I want to tell someone all of my issues, but I know nobody would actually listen.

And before you say "I'm here to talk", I'll politely decline. I'm sorry. I don't trust people. I'm afraid of them one-up-ing my hardships, or saying that It's not that bad, or that I'm too young to feel that way, or that I'm being a dramatic little bitch. I might talk to someone. But I probably won't. I'm sorry. I don't know why I do this. I always choose to suffer in silence, and it's going to be the fucking death of me. I'm tired of being nice. I'm tired of always being the therapist. I'm tired of putting good into the world, of trying my best to be a good person, only for me to be getting treated like shit, and used because I'm so kind. I hate myself. I always forgive people, too. I'm just too scared of hurting someone. I don't want to hurt others, I don't want to. Even if they're clearly in the wrong. My stupid ass brain always tells me that it's my fault, giving them the benefit of the doubt, and always turning the blame on me. That they might also be going through shit. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to say no, even if it means literally throwing my shitty sense of self away. People say to put others first. Well, now that's all I can do. I feel like a selfish bastard if I say no, or put myself first. And I fucking hate it. I try and ask other people for advice, and they all say the SAME. FUCKING. THING. That I'm looking at the wrong stuff, or that I'm being too negative, that I'm focusing on the bad. They say I need to think positively. But when I reach out and ask for help, they say to ask someone else, or to figure it out yourself. And then get mad at me when I do it "Wrong". It's like telling an architect that you want a mansion. You describe it, you give them all the materials, and then walk away. Then, when they ask for the blueprint, or instructions, you say that "Oh, you're an architect, you should know what to do." And then, when they build it wrong, you get mad at them. They say that it was obvious. And this keeps happening, with every. Single. Person. Eventually, you'd just quit being an architect, right? Exactly. That's why I've stopped asking people for help, why I've stopped venting to other people. I'm tired of getting the same answer each time, the same "Figure it out yourself," the same backlash for doing it in a way that's wrong in their eyes, when the answer was "So obvious." I'm tired of it. And then they wonder why I fucking hate society. They wonder why I bottle up my goddamn emotions. I can't handle this anymore. I'm reaching my limit. I am rapidly approaching my breaking point. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

I picked at a scab, and then saw this blood. I didn't even feel pain. Hell, I didn't freak out at the least, like a normal person would. I haven't even put a bandaid or something on it. Nope. I just sat there, staring at it.

I need help. I need fucking help.